The past is dead
by SSMcPriceley
Summary: Connor realises that a lot has changed and with the help of Kevin discovers that the death of his past is a very good thing


A small red flag on the McKinley-Price household's mailbox alerted Connor to make his way out the front door clad only in dressing gown and slippers to collect the morning's offerings. Kevin raised his eyes from his coffee (double shot espresso) as he saw Connor return clutching a formal looking letter in one hand, the other running and tangling nervously through his hair.

"What's up?"

Connor wordlessly handed Kevin the letter and slumped in a chair next to him. Kevin's eyes skimmed the letter and looked up in concern.

"Connor I'm..I'm…" he wasn't sure what to say. "I'm so sorry"

Connor stared through empty eyes "I don't know how to feel about this" he said in a flat tone.

"I don't think I would either Con, I mean it's such a shock." He released the question that was on his lips. "Are you going to go?"

The redhead sighed dejectedly and felt guilt that his answer was readily available. "She didn't come to our wedding why should I go to her funeral". His throat caught as he said the word.

Kevin was a little surprised "I know Con, but this is your mum" He wanted to fully support Connor's decisions and he knew from his own experience the trauma an unaccepting family leaves for life but he also didn't want Connor to act rashly.

Connor took the letter back and gazed into the black print on slightly crinkled white hoping that the mundane words might form words of love his mother had always neglected to stay. He nodded "You're right, I should go. She might not have raised me well, but she did raise me."

Kevin gave his husband an encouraging smile and pulled him into a comforting, tight hug. As he felt protective and loving arms wrap around him Connor pressed his face into Kevin's shoulder and cried silent tears into the inviting fabric.

Kevin rocked from side to side "sh"ing the non-existent sounds. He stroked one hand softly through the feathery red hair keeping the other firmly around his waist.

* * *

><p>"You killed her, son"<p>

Connor flinched at the sound of his father's voice so close to his ear. As the man leaned forward in his seat he made sure his son heard every word of his whisper. Connor kept his eyes focused forward not processing the words that echoed and jostled one another through the hot church.

Kevin gripped his husband's hand and Connor welcomed the almost painful crush of it as he tried to put his hands into angry fists at the sound of the aggressive man. It made him feel safe and protected despite losing feeling to several of his appendages.

"She loved you and then you broke her with your…" he glanced at Kevin "choices".

The sibilance hissed in Connor's ear but he didn't move away, instead adopting a stoic body language concentrating all his might on his hand, linked with the most supportive, caring man he ever knew. The man who should have been his father.

He tried to focus on his mother and the optimistic, sympathetic words spoken by friends and relations. He still wasn't sure why he'd come. He tried to think back to a time when he loved her, remembered a genuine smile that wasn't laced with disappointment and self-pity. His mind blanked as he searched desperately in his memories for some form of affection amidst years of rejection.

He wasn't going to rise to his father. He didn't believe you could die from grief or a broken heart and anyway, he knew she'd died of a stroke; it was ridiculous to suggest he had any hand in her early passing. But the words still cut into him, each syllable biting into his skin leaving teeth marks of anger and worthlessness.

He had parted from his father in bad terms. He'd returned home from his mission satisfied with himself, exuberated and optimistic at having fulfilled his expectations and put a foot in the closet door ready to take a step out into an accepting world. He felt appreciated for the first time in his life, he'd met a beautiful man who loved him back.

In these jubilant spirits it was unsurprising that he'd carelessly left out some clues to his true feelings. He no longer felt the need to turn everything off and this was what he'd been used to for over a year now. Although he never said anything directly to his parents it blatantly obvious and he wasn't making it hard to guess.

His parents watched in a mixture of incredulity and horror at the interactions he had with Kevin. 'That nice boy from next door' they always called him. Now he scared them with his glazed over eyes, constant smile and wandering hands that Connor readily accepted.

One day, Connor had come home to find his parents standing next to one another in the hall, solemn looks on their faces. "Intervention?" he joked.

Neither parent joined in the laugh. His mother held onto her husband's arm teetering slightly, she looked like she was about to topple over, face blanched, eyes watery. His father on the other hand looked resolute.

"Get out" he said quietly but firmly.

"Excuse me?" Connor stood in disbelief. Slowly his face clouded over as he realised the seriousness of what his father was saying. He now noticed two pink suitcases hidden behind his parent's legs that he hadn't noticed before.

"Oh" he mouthed silently.

"We packed everything. You don't need to take another step inside this house".

Connor highly doubted his father had managed to fit his whole life to that point in two suitcases and wasn't going to risk leaving behind the precious contents of the space beneath the loose floorboard in his room. He pushed past his father and sprinted up the stairs. As he crossed the threshold of his room he wasted no time in getting to his knees and fumbling with the screws that to the unknowing eye could be securely fastened down.

He lifted the floorboard and gasped as he looked down into the empty hole. He futiley ran his fingers over the sides gaining several splinters as he frantically searched.

"Looking for these"

His father stood in the doorway holding up a wad of paper. Connor could recognise the familiar writing on the visible pages. The secret life of his childhood was contained in those pieces of paper. His old diaries were there, written on scraps so he could fold them up and stuff them in the safe cracks of the floor. He saw the scrawl of Steve on creased slips passed beneath school desks almost a decade ago. His heart leapt as he noticed the yellowing paper, wrinkled from the African heat. These were the forbidden letters he'd sent to Kevin once he'd returned home.

It was against rules to write home but nevertheless, Kevin had poured his heart onto the pages to send back to the man he loved in Utah and Connor had returned the sentiments waiting sometimes for weeks on end but neither lover failing to reply.

He cherished every one and knew most off by heart as he'd soaked each one up memorising every word, imagining Kevin speaking them softly in the safety of his room at night.

"How do you think I found out? Don't get me wrong I always had my suspicions about you" he sneered. "But now I know for certain and no trace of your kind will left in my house". From his pocket he produced a lighter.

Connor's eyes widened "No dad please!"

"You are not my son"

Connor took the opportunity as his father fumbled his thumbs over the lighter to launch himself at him. Papers scattered everywhere floating around the room, out into the corridor and down the stairs.

Connor grasped for them, desperate to recover the pieces of himself but, realising the dangerous lack of time he reached for the yellowy tinged ones first. He clutched them to his chest and bolted down the stairs. His mother still stood there shaking. He unzipped a pocket in the suitcase and stuffed as much as he could inside. They floated down around him, incriminating confetti.

He was engrossed in his task and almost didn't notice how his mother had knelt beside him to help until she tapped him on the shoulder and handed a square inch of exercise book paper to him.

'_Best Friends'._

Simply read the 5th grade scribble. He felt stupid for having kept all these meaningless messages like a hopeless romantic. In his frantic state he snatched the paper from her and shoved it deep in the compartment. When as much as he could manage was hidden away again he rose and looked at his mother.

He stepped forward arms outstretched but she winced and took a step back. The arms fell limply to his side and he dejectedly took a suitcase in each hand and marched out the still open door. His father who had been watching his wife and son from the top of the stairs yelled out as he slammed the door on his previous life for good. "FAG!" It sent tremors through the house and he could feel it on the street outside.

He hadn't spoken to either of them since then. He thought he'd caught a glimpse of her walking on the other side of coffee shop glass but he couldn't be sure. Her thin demeanor and pinched face had disappeared into the crowd before he got a good look.

He'd sent them a wedding invitation only out of pretence. He had low expectations and almost hadn't bothered to add the RSVP. They hadn't replied and he was nervous right up until moments before the ceremony. Kevin had reminded him, whose own parents hadn't attended, that all the people who were important to them were there and that's what mattered. Nevertheless Connor was certain they would burst in at any moment. They hadn't and without them, the day had been perfect.

* * *

><p>Kevin rested his hand on Connor's knee as they both sat on stools by the window in Starbucks. Kevin had a hand possessively round his Americano and Connor gripped both hands round a cinnamon latte. His hands could feel it getting colder and colder beneath his touch. They'd been in there for half an hour and he had yet to take a sip.<p>

He scanned the faces of passers by expecting to see her face among them, knowing that he never would again. He tried to remember a happy face, a smiling face. He was dragging these memories from a dark place long packed away. Despite their creaky bones and dusty covering, Connor held tightly to the memories not wanting to let go.

"Drink up" Kevin gave his leg a squeeze. "It's what she would have wanted" he smiled and Connor did too. He took a confident sip of the beautiful caffeine that his mother had never touched in her life.

After Kevin had let him move into his one bedroom apartment having himself been, in less dramatic fashion to Connor, asked to politely leave, they had frequented the local Starbucks on a daily basis.

When Connor had made his big break on Broadway, starring in a revival of _Falsettos,_ the two had moved to an even smaller apartment and so spent much more time squeezed in a corner of Starbucks. Drinking away their problems in the most rebellious way they could think of.

The Starbucks near the church where the funeral service was held was different but the coffee tasted the same. He didn't really miss his mother, or his father, or any of his family. Kevin was his family now and it suited him just fine. He wouldn't have been able to bare the funeral without Kevin by his side. Every fake smile and brief handshake as he recognised the disgusted looks behind the eyes of former friends was ok because Kevin was there smiling and holding his hand the whole way.

He couldn't wait to get back to New York City, the land where dreams had come true. He lived a happy life with Kevin, opening up every night and baring all for audiences. He left bits of his soul scattered about the stage after the curtain call. He liked to think he was making up for lost time by showing truth and presenting himself naked to audiences nightly.

He used to feel guilty for doing the same for Kevin. Not any longer. He'd left that bit of his past behind him, cut off all ties, no regret, no guilt. There just wasn't time. He remembered his mother but he never missed her. He sometimes looked back but most of his time was spent facing forward. He now had to shield his eyes from the light at the end of the tunnel. It was so bright.


End file.
